


Gai'se bal Mande

by mneiai



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Adoption, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Ableism, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mandalore, Mando'a, Minor Character Death, One Shot Collection, Qui-Gon Jinn Bashing, Sith Lords Being Sith Lords, Time Travel, Weird Force Osik, Yoda bashing, identity theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: There's one basic fact of the galaxy that lots of people agree on: Qui-Gon Jinn does not deserve to raise Obi-Wan.
Relationships: Alpha-17 & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hego Damask | Darth Plagueis & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze, Tarre Vizsla & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Tyvokka & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 226
Kudos: 1313
Collections: Anything But Qui-Gon, Punch Qui-Gon and Adopt Obi-Wan, all my homies hate qui-gon





	1. Alpha-17

**Author's Note:**

> "gai bal manda" is the Mandalorian adoption rite, it means "name and soul." This is me doing my best to pluralize that into "names and souls" lol
> 
> These are entries for [my discord server's](https://discord.gg/6b9rAgp) monthly Alpha-17 Approved Challenges, September 2020: "Punch Qui-Gon and Adopt Obi-Wan."

Death came in battle, it was all that Alpha-17 could hope for.

That it was battle against the Vod'e, the younger siblings he'd raised and trained and who'd gone suddenly, horrifying blank-faced before turning on the Jedi around them, left something to be desired.

He thought of the ones off Kamino, legions of Vod'e that could very well be doing exactly the same thing. Trusted--some even loved--by the Jedi around them.

He thought of Kote. And how he'd _entrusted_ him with Obi-Wan. 

His heart ached.

And then he hit the water, the impact knocking him out, the current sucking him under, and stopped thinking.

***

Alpha-17 came awake with a gasp. He hadn't expected to come awake at all, so he did as he had been trained to and accessed the situation before allowing any signs of waking. He was lying on grass, somewhere with moderate temperature on the cold side. There were at least two people in the immediate vicinity, he could smell the faintest fumes of blaster fire but not hear any of the telltale sounds of armor.

"Hey, are you okay?" The voice was on the young side, the words were Mando'a, the accent familiar--achingly familiar, he realized.

He opened his eyes and a too-young version of Obi-Wan was leaning over him, staring down at him. Was this the afterlife? Were one of the religions that said there was some sort of 'heaven' after death right? But he'd think he'd be staring into Obi-Wan's face as he'd been when they first met, that those eyes would be alight with recognition.

This...this _kid_ was younger than a shiny and definitely didn't recognize him. He had the telltale Padawan haircut, which looked somehow extra ridiculous and extra adorable on his fluffy red hair. He wasn't wearing robes, though, instead dressed like some sort of spacer.

Beside him was a girl, a little older than him, light colored hair and--oh.

Oh.

The Duchess. His General and the Duchess.

"What--what year is this?"

The two exchanged looks, clearly concerned for him. "You fell out of the _sky_ , there aren't any ships around. Whatever happened to you--you're disoriented."

"I'm not," Alpha-17 insisted, sitting up and inspecting himself. 

The blaster marks were there on his armor, but the wounds were gone. His bucket was missing, too, but that was probably for the best--the armor he might be able to pass off as Mandalorian style, but he couldn't do that with the helmet. 

Neither of them recognized him--neither of them would have seen Jango Fett before, he didn't think. How old would Jango have been right now? Would they be too close in age and looks to risk showing his face?

He spared a moment to think about tracking him down, it wouldn't be hard to get a slip on him, he wouldn't be expecting anyone to know as much about his skillset as Alpha-17 did. 

"It's 7938 CRC," Padawan Obi-Wan finally says, watching Alpha-17 for a reaction.

"Right, that scans," he stated, in acknowledgement, remembering his General liked that sort of thing. "I want you to reach out with your Force banthashit, and ask it if the next thing I say is true or not." Obi-Wan's eyes widen and, after another quick look at Kryze, he nods. "I'm from the future."

Kryze lets out a disbelieving noise. Obi-Wan, who'd been crouching beside him, falls flat on his ass, still staring. He believed him, then. That made things slightly easier.

"Duchess, you're dead. I'm dead, or was. You...Obi-Wan, you probably are, too. There was a war," before Kryze could say anything about how there was _currently_ a war, he waved a hand, "a _galactic wide_ war. Lots of people died. If I'm back here, now...it's so we can prepare for it."

All through his words, Obi-Wan's eyes hardened, his face chilling into the determined look Alpha-17 recognized from battle. He'd been in battle, he realized, now, and before now, even. He'd said as much when they'd talked about his past. Obi-Wan might be missing a few decades of experience, but he wasn't missing his earlier knowledge of warfare.

"You believe him?"

"The Force is--it's hard to explain, Sat'ika. It's _ringing_ with truth all around him, _screaming_ at me to believe him."

Kryze had the resigned look of someone who had worked with a Jedi for long enough to know they were all completely crazy and also actually did have mysterical powers.

"Fine." She stood up a little straighter, looking down at him with an air of authority at odds with her dirty spacer disguise. "What's the plan, then?"

***

He told them enough, Obi-Wan confirmed anything with the Force that Kryze thought was just too unbelievable. It wasn't hard, after that, to get their help tracking down Jango (Alpha-17 remembered just enough about his stories to have a good guess of where he might be) and, even though neither of them seemed too hot about it, killing him.

Taking his identity felt creepy, but they needed it--the Duchess of the New Mandalorians and the Mand'alor of the traditionalists working together? Yeah, they needed that.

And if anyone noticed the gaps in "Jango's" memory, well, there was a lot of trauma there. No surprise he'd repress most of his old life.

Eventually Jinn tracked them down, too, clearly not knowing what to make of the fact his charge had gone so far off the rails she'd allied with a missing political rival.

Definitely no one was surprised that "Jango" didn't want a Jedi involved in anything (Obi-Wan didn't count, of course, but there were lots of reasons people could give for that), and he blocked him out of their planning meetings.

Frustrated and petty, Jinn drew Obi-Wan away just a day after they all reached Sundari. "I...suppose our work here is done, then. Padawan, it's time to return to Coruscant."

"So you can send him off alone in another warzone?" Alpha-17 challenged and the people around them tensed in anticipation, knowing how much "Jango" liked the apprentice. "Let him starve for a few more months when he's supposed to be growing?"

Jinn's eyes flashed with anger, his expression reminding Alpha-17 of Anakin--who'd been _nineteen_ , not some old man entrusted with raising multiple kids. It was impossible to believe this guy raised someone like Obi-Wan Kenobi, though he figured that was because Obi-Wan mostly raised himself.

"Obi-Wan is my Padawan learner, as his Master--"

"You're supposed to _take care of him_ , not treat him like a neglected strill that will keep obedient because it doesn't know better."

"Jango," Obi-Wan tried to interrupt, but Alpha-17 shot him a look and he backed down and shuffled away, Satine gripping his arm, both seeming more curious than concerned.

Maybe it was Obi-Wan's easy obedience towards Alpha-17 or maybe it was the protective anger Jinn was feeling in the Force, but he stepped forward, looking down at Alpha-17 like his height was something to be intimidated by and not just a quirk of genetics.

Alpha-17 had spent too long dealing with the longnecks to give a shit about Qui-Gon Jinn being taller.

"Our mission is over, Mand'alor," the title was hissed in displeasure, "and it is time to return to our home."

Alpha-17 turned towards Obi-Wan, whose eyes were wide. They'd discussed this--the need to prepare Mandalore for what was to come, the fact that the Republic, the Jedi Order, couldn't be as ready. He took a breath, let it out steadily, as he did when he was releasing emotions in the Force. Then he nodded.

"Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad," Alpha-17 stated, the room erupting into chaos as "Jango Fett" adopted a child.

Jinn clearly didn't know what that meant, but knew there was some significance. He strode forward and, instead of stopping in front of Obi-Wan to speak to him as Alpha-17 had been expecting, he _grabbed Obi-Wan's arm_.

"We're going, _now_ , Padawan."

He didn't get more of a tug in before Alpha-17's fist landed cleanly in his kidney. Letting out a wheeze, the older Jedi stumbled away, Obi-Wan just managing to get out of his grip. Satine was whispering frantically to him, glaring at Jinn as she did, probably telling Obi-Wan how _unacceptable_ Jinn's move had been even if Obi-Wan had been conditioned to think that was alright.

" _You're_ leaving, Jinn. And you're not taking _my son_ with you."

The Mandalorians around them weren't the Vod'e, would never be as close or know him as truly, but they were still Mando'ade, and quickly filled in the space to block Obi-Wan from Jinn's view as he turned his attention back to them. 

The Jedi Order would protest the whole thing, probably fed some lies by Jinn about what _actually_ had happened, but there were more than enough people here to know and spread the truth through the sector. There was nothing more Mandalorian than fighting the Jedi and with any luck this might even get Death Watch interested in "Jango's" rule.


	2. Tyvokka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Φ symbol is used to denote Shyriiwook, which of course everyone understands fluently because why wouldn't they?
> 
> Posted September 3, 2020

The tiny Initiate was leaking distress into the Force. There was a Council meeting that Tyvokka was supposed to be attending, and yet...something made him stop for this. If he were Master Windu, he thought he would be seeing a shatterpoint about to resolve itself.

ΦAre you alright, Initiate?Φ he asked, crouching to get closer to the level of the child.

They looked at him with wide eyes, pinkish from the tears they were holding back. "I--I'm sorry, Master! I didn't mean to disturb you!"

Unsaid was the Initiate's idea that they were always disturbing people. That their _presence_ did that.

It had been a long, long time since Tyvokka had been around Initiates, not since his last Padawan, Plo, had been one, and he wondered what exactly was happening in the creche for a child to feel like this.

ΦWhat is your name, Initiate?Φ

They sniffled, then supplied, "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master."

ΦAnd why are you distressed, Initiate Kenobi?Φ

"I--I'm not! I'm fine! Really!"

Tyvokka felt Obi-Wan make a valiant effort in the Force to release their emotions, far better than he'd expect from a child of such a young age without a Master. But along with their earlier distress was now a level of mortification that made Tyvokka uncomfortable--who had told this child emotions were _embarrassing_? From the look and smell, they were near-human, which meant they would be naturally volatile at this stage of growth.

ΦInitiate Kenobi, I am not trying to reprimand you. I only wish to help.Φ He pushed his sincerity into the Force, letting his presence wrap warm and snug around Obi-Wan. ΦPlease, tell me.Φ

Obi-Wan sank into his presence, but also curled up even more, looking ever smaller. "I was...I was rejected. Again. I'm going to be sent away. And Master Jinn, he...."

ΦMaster Jinn considered you? He has not looked towards any Initiates in...years.Φ That was putting it mildly, Tyvokka had been witness to the cold war between Jinn and both his Master and Grandmaster. 

"He was my last hope," Obi-Wan whispered.

Which...Tyvokka thought was odd. He did not know this Initiate, he clearly wasn't the most powerful and perhaps was not the most skilled, but the Force _loved_ him. It curled around him like a child might a favorite toy, protective and caring. If Tyvokka himself had been considering taking a new apprentice, the Force presence of Obi-Wan would have immediately caught his attention.

 _Jinn_ , though...for him to even talk to an Initiate...it stank of the sort of meddling Yoda was known for. The whole situation did.

ΦCome with me, Initiate Kenobi. I am heading to my favorite meditation room and I would like some company.Φ

The little human stared up at him, but hesitantly set a tiny hand in his paw. Tyvokka had some digging to do, but for now, he had a child to comfort.

***

Master Jinn was the best source of information on what had actually happened, as Yoda would never admit to anything to Tyvokka, but he was being surprisingly combative.

It was one thing, Tyvokka thought, for them to _have words_ in the Council Chambers, where they discussed missions from very different points of view. It was another thing entirely for Jinn to treat him like a potential enemy over the fate of one _Initiate_.

"He's angry, uncontrolled. It will only be a matter of time before he falls to the Dark," Jinn was insisting, as though his wild claims were unquestionable truths.

ΦInitiate Kenobi is a child, I sensed no darkness in them. Quite the opposite.Φ

Jinn glared. "I have experience in such things."

ΦDo you?Φ He couldn't help going in for the low blow, even though perhaps it was uncouth of a Master of his stature, ΦWasn't your problem that you _didn't_ know the warning signs?Φ

That seemed to almost physically stagger Jinn, his Force presence dimming for an instant before it came back with greater strength, even more unstable than it had been before. He spluttered, glaring up at Tyvokka, seemingly at a loss for words.

ΦI will be recommending you for sessions with a mind healer, Master Jinn. You are now officially on medical leave from away missions.Φ

Jinn's presence deepened, the edges of a Darkness starting to seep through, and Tyvokka had a sense of horrible foreboding as he imagined that bright little Initiate he'd comforted ending up with this Master.

ΦWhatever you are about to say, I would advise against it. I _am_ a member of the High Council and your Grandmaster cannot throw around his weight for everything.Φ

At least the human Master retained some semblance of reason, as he simply muttered invectives on his way from the room.

Now Tyvokka just had to locate Initiate Kenobi again, to ask them if they'd be willing to accept Tyvokka himself as a Master. If not, he could surely convince Plo to offer, as well, but Tyvokka dearly hoped Obi-Wan would agree. The Force had brought them together for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one doesn't technically have a physical hit, but if Tyvokka actually physically hit Qui-Gon he'd probably do severe harm and Tyvokka's not that kind of guy.


	3. Tarre Vizsla (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever just accidentally write 5000+ words about a time traveling ancient Mandalorian adopting your favorite Jedi?
> 
> I jokingly said I wanted to do Tarre Vizsla and then while writing the Alpha-17 one I got an idea of how to do it lol So, this is also during Obi-Wan's mission to Mandalore.
> 
> Warning for some (completely non-sexual) consent issues.
> 
> If you would like to take part in this or future challenges, come [join my fanfic Discord server/Alpha-17 fanclub!](https://discord.gg/W3BUsdT)
> 
> Posted September 9, 2020.

The nights in the desert outside Sundari were freezing cold. With nothing to block the wind, Obi-Wan and Satine desperately looked for shelter each day, sometimes even backtracking despite the dangers, just to stay out of the elements. They huddled together in caves and crevices, trying to raise Qui-Gon or any of the New Mandalorian loyalists on their comms.

Today they had cut it close, the sun already dipping low on the horizon as they trudged through what looked to be ruins of some once-great building. Between the bombardment and the elements, there wasn't anything identifiable left, nor any buildings that they could use.

Obi-Wan stretched out with the Force as much as he could, senses flowing over what might have once been pillars, what might have once been statues. He almost stumbled when the ground dipped under his senses, too deep to just be a ditch in the sand.

"Sat'ika, I think I found something," he called softly, voice gruff from a day of disuse but Mando'a still flowing easily enough.

She hurried to him--tired, malnourished, but still bristling with righteous energy wherever she went these days. "What is it?"

He took her hand and guided her to what he'd felt, a good few minutes of walking away from his original location. When they got there, he thought perhaps their current lifestyle was playing with his mind, because it just looked like more sand. Cautiously, he pushed it with the Force and...it sunk down, a door hidden beneath opening and the sand flooding through the hole until they could see it.

"A basement," she murmured, her pleasure echoing in the Force. "Can you get us up and down?"

There were no stairs, no sign of any ladders left, but the fall wasn't very far. He nodded in agreement and she wrapped her arms around him as they'd done so many times before.

Obi-Wan descended slower than he would have if it were just himself, not wanting to frighten her no matter how much she now trusted in the Force. They landed softly in the pile of sand. Without needing to speak, they separated as soon as their feet were steady, Obi-Wan pulling out his lightsaber to light their way, but also for protection, as Satine aimed her blaster around them.

"I don't sense anyone else," he murmured.

Though, that wasn't entirely true. There was _something_ about these ruins that made them not feel empty. Maybe some creatures, he pondered, already worrying about all the ways this unexpected boon could go badly the same as all the others before it.

"Can you close the door?" Satine pointed above them. "Sand should cover it again during the night, if anyone comes looking...."

He shot her a smile before doing as she'd suggested, glad she'd thought of it while his mind was elsewhere. As soon as it shut, they were plunged into darkness, his lightsaber the only source of light.

Reaching behind him, he caught Satine's hand, then started deeper into the building. Technically, they could stay in that room all night, but in case there was another entrance they needed to watch, he wanted to know where they were.

The only way out was a narrow hallway, nothing about it screamed danger in the Force. After walking through, they found a large set of doors, faded carvings all along them.

Figures in beskar'gam were easy enough to pick out, along with other clearly Mandalorian depictions. "This must be old," Satine murmured, "old enough we all forgot."

Old enough the New Mandalorians didn't know it was here to destroy, Obi-Wan thought, perhaps ungenerous, but didn't speak.

A noise rang like a bell from beyond the doors and he startled. From Satine's questioning look, he knew she hadn't heard it.

Again, he could feel some oddness, some presence, but no danger. So he kept going forward, pushing open the doors with the Force and continuing inside.

Beyond was a gigantic space and as they walked they discovered the edges weren't walls, but buildings. Shops or homes, maybe, with doorways and windows. In the center was a field of dirt where crops might have once been raised. Further in, there were steps leading up to a grand building that even in disrepair spoke of reverence.

"Is this some sort of hidden city?" Satine pondered, studying what could be seen in the glow of the lightsaber.

Obi-Wan just shook his head, drawn up those stairs, towards another set of doors. "No. It's a Temple."

She hesitated now to follow him and he sensed unease from her. "To which gods? The Mandalorian ones aren't the most welcoming."

Biting his tongue--because he'd studied plenty of religions and there was nothing overly bad about the Mandalorian gods--he answered, "It's a Jedi Temple. Or...something like it. A Force tradition, definitely. Not Sith."

No, Sith would have...a feeling to it. He'd been around darksiders and Sith holocrons, he and Qui-Gon had even had an eventful mission involving a Sith Temple, but this was different. Maybe not Jedi, but closer.

The presence was _here_ , he realized. It was the Temple...something in the Temple.

Someone in the Temple.

Standing as if in a beam of moonlight, a translucent blue figure waited within. It wore beskar'gam and at its side was a very familiar hilt--one that Obi-Wan had seen in pictures at the Temple and in propaganda from Death Watch.

A dead Force user who was a Mandalorian and carried the Darksaber.

"Mand'alor," he tried, voice showing more of his uncertainty than he liked, and gave a respectful bow.

Behind him, Satine seemed even more confused and uneasy, taking another step back as the figure approached them. She couldn't feel him the way Obi-Wan could, didn't know he meant them no harm.

No, Obi-Wan thought, studying the feeling more. He definitely meant _Obi-Wan_ no harm. How he felt towards Satine was...less certain.

"Padawan," the figure--Tarre Vizsla, if Obi-Wan was right--greeted, the Je'daii word twisted slightly by some ancient Mandalorian accent.

"We seek shelter in the Temple for the night, Mand'alor, with your permission."

"Obi-Wan," Satine hissed, softly, but he didn't know what she wanted and didn't want to distract himself from the apparition.

Tarre tilted his head, Obi-Wan hoped the body language of Mandalorians hadn't changed too much and that was still a show of acknowledgement and agreement.

He turned back to Satine, carefully handing her his lightsaber. "There's light enough in here and I'm trained to move in darkness, anyway. Why don't you go find one of those buildings and get some sleep? Try to raise Master Jinn on the comms again, if you can. I'll take first watch."

Normally, she'd protest everything--separating, leaving him without his main weapon, sleeping first--but this time she left without another word, just a frightened look at the Force ghost before them.

"She is not Mando'ad," Tarre commented when she had left (Obi-Wan couldn’t think of him as just “Vizsla,” not when he’d spent so many months now associating that name with the enemy).

"There are...many who agree with that."

"You are?" The question seemed almost extraneous, as if Tarre had already figured him for one of them.

Which he supposed was fair--he was still wearing the stolen Death Watch beskar'gam he'd taken. If one didn't know Tarre was the first _and_ last Mandalorian Jedi, they might might assumptions about Obi-Wan.

"No," he answered, truthfully, and saw Tarre shift into a position that showed disbelief and displeasure. “I’m a Jedi, sent to protect her--uh, that’s Duchess,” there was, he realized, not for the first time, no good Mando’a equivalent and ended up having to say ‘a position like Mand’alor’, “Satine Kryze. She was voted in as the New Mandalorian ruler for Manda’yaim and the Sector, and then there was an attack….”

With every phrase he uttered, he could feel Tarre’s displeasure depending, the Force darkening with it. He shifted, glancing down again at his armor. That probably wasn’t helping, he imagined, as Obi-Wan had never said the Resol’nare in any form and Tarre was surely too traditional not to notice.

He took off the buy’ce, blinking as he realized it was even brighter inside the main Temple than he’d thought, his visor having protected his eyes from what would have been a blinding glare after the darkness outside.

“I’m sorry, I know I have no right to it. The people we’re running from--”

“Stop.” The authority in Tarre’s tone made Obi-Wan immediately stop speaking. “You are worthy, of that I can tell. If _that one_ ,” he motioned towards the door, “had dared, that would be another issue.”

“Thank you.” He knew enough about Mandalorian culture to know he’d just been given a major compliment. “I promise, we’ll be gone before--”

“Where is your Guardian, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “My...oh. We’re taking separate parts in this mission. My main duty is to protect...her.”

“Where is the Mand’alor?”

“...Dead? Or at least missing. For years now. There’s another,” Obi-Wan had to catch himself from saying Tor Vizsla’s name, “who’s claiming the position, but he used treachery to remove the other Mand’alor and so many would never follow him.”

“As they should not. A Mand’alor knows battle and honor. Treachery is the way of the dar’manda.”

He wondered if Tarre would still say the same, if he knew it was a member of his own Clan he spoke of. Maybe, the traditionalists were _very_ into honor, and one couldn’t get much more traditional than someone who had been alive before the New Mandalorians even existed.

“Sleep here, Padawan.” 

“In...in this Temple, Mand’alor?” 

“Yes. I will guard you.”

“...I would be honored.”

***

Obi-Wan slept, and he dreamed, and he knew he wasn’t alone in those dreams.

He dreamed of the Creche, of Bruck’s mocking “Oafy-Wan”s and the judgement of the Masters. He dreamed of Qui-Gon’s rejections, of trying to sacrifice himself for him. Of Melida-Daan and the shunning he faced at the Temple after. Of Xanatos and being put on trial for Bruck’s death.

He knew it was Tarre in his mind, directing his memories to play out like some sort of holodrama. Every time his resentment built and he thought of pushing him out, though, a wave of serenity would wash over him and he’d forget to try.

***

When he awoke, nothing had changed. The bright light was still there, Tarre Vizsla’s ghost was still there. He could tell it had only been a few hours since he’d fallen asleep because of the tightness in his body from lying on a thin layer over a stone floor. 

And, yet, the air felt charged.

“Obi-Wan,” Tarre called to him, the name he hadn’t been told rolling off of his tongue. “There is something I must show you.”

If not for the Force, Obi-Wan would feel like this was some sort of trap. Even with the Force, he was questioning what was happening. He had gotten better at the Living Force that his Master obsessed over, enough to sometimes let it guide his steps, but now even that was mostly quiet.

Deciding he was already in a Temple that shouldn’t exist in the middle of nowhere with a ghost and he didn’t have much left to lose, anyway, he followed Tarre deeper into the Temple.

The outer complex was huge, so it was no surprise that this building was much bigger than it appeared from the front. They went through hallways and rooms, Obi-Wan using every trick he’d been taught (or had to teach himself) to keep track so he could get out on his own if he needed to.

Around them, the Force pulsed, growing more powerful with each step. When they finally reached their destination, he felt as though he might be knocked down by its strength.

A nexus, he realized. An unknown nexus in the Force, on Manda’yaim, that had somehow managed to survive the Dral’Han without turning Dark.

Tarre stood at the edge of the doorway leading into it, watching him. “You are in need, Obi-Wan. And Mandalore is in need. It was the will of the Ka’ra that you found this place, that you awoke me from my slumber.”

The Force, so quiet despite its strength before, was screaming at Obi-Wan. He didn’t know why--didn’t know if it was at the rightness of the situation or to tell him to fear, to run.

All he could do was stand there, still and unsure, as Tarre Vizsla’s ghost walked _right into the nexus_.

***

Obi-Wan realized he had been knocked out by the blow of energy when he woke up to hands gently running through his hair.

The next thing he realized was they were not Satine’s familiar hands. They were rougher, much larger, and the fingers had claws, though they weren’t making any attempt to harm Obi-Wan.

He reached out with the Force to gauge if he was in immediate danger and who might be with him and the other person _reached back_. 

They had the presence of a Master, extremely disciplined, with firm shields that yielded slightly to Obi-Wan’s juvenile searching as though to comfort him. There was a sharpness to them, like a violence simmering around them, that was entirely unfamiliar from any Jedi, but he couldn’t sense Darkness, either.

When he opened his eyes, he realized the figure was in full beskar’gam, the gloves discarded by Obi-Wan’s head. And the armor itself...was exactly what the ghost had been wearing.

“...Tarre?” he asked, saying the name he’d been referring to the ghost in his thoughts as.

They nodded, gentle hands still petting him, Force presence beginning to loop around him in a mental equivalent of a careful embrace. He’d had other Masters do that to him, too, over the years, though never Qui-Gon, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Obi-Wan,” Tarre answered in acknowledgement before finally pulling away.

He grabbed his gloves, shoving them into his belt, and pulled Obi-Wan up as he stood. There was the Darksaber still at Tarre’s side, despite...seemingly no longer being a ghost...and Obi-Wan wondered if that meant there were _two_ Darksabers in the galaxy (if this wasn’t just all some weird hallucination).

“How are you…” he trailed off and just waved at him, not sure what the Mando’a word for ‘ghost’ was or how to really encompass the difference.

Tarre tilted his head in amusement, pulling Obi-Wan along with him as they made their way back towards the entryway (Obi-Wan hoped). “This Temple was built for many reasons. After I left the Order, I gathered Mando’ade to train, knowing the Order would stifle them, try to disconnect them from the Manda. Here, we trained. Here, we learned. From Jedi who saw the truth of my mission. From Sith who sought a new path.”

Looking around, noticing that despite the loss of the ghostly Tarre there was still light everywhere from what Obi-Wan could tell, he could almost imagine what these halls and rooms would look like filled with those people. Almost see the echoes of them in the Force surrounding him.

“I collected my knowledge here, my being. Not all of myself went to the Ka’ra.”

“The...the way I saw you, before, then?”

“Yes, this Temple was built for learning and I left a part of myself to teach.”

He blinked. “Like a holocron?” More like a Sith holocron, he thought, than a Jedi one.

Tarre shrugged. “I waited, after the last of my students left. After war came to Manda’yaim and destroyed so much of its life. I felt that one day I might be needed again.”

“But how are you...how are you _physically_ here?”

He stopped, Obi-Wan almost hitting into him. Glancing around, he realized they’d made their way not just to the entrance of the Temple, but out into what had been the courtyard--and the light was still there. The light was _everywhere_ , as if the sun beyond the ceiling could somehow reach them.

“I brought myself here, from the time before.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up. “You...time traveled?”

Tarre shrugged again, as if nothing he was saying was shocking or _impossible_. “I used the Force, the nexus, the energy left behind by myself. I drew on it and brought my whole self here.”

Nothing he said rang with falsehoods in the Force, no matter how dizzy the ideas were making Obi-Wan. “You used an _entire Temple_ to bind yourself to this place so you could _reach into the past and bring your physical body to the future_ in order to...what?”

“Save Mandalore.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, then let it out, realizing he probably wouldn’t be able to reason with someone who had gone to such extremes. “Okay. And what do I have to do with it?”

Tarre gave the head movement that indicated amusement again, face still hidden under his buy’ce. “You are lost. Not just in body, but in heart and mind. You are meant for the Manda, but you are held back by the Order. And by that unworthy Guardian.”

“You--that’s--.”

“I know your name as my child, Obi-Wan. And as my student.” 

Obi-Wan took a physical step back, but Tarre simply followed. He reached up with those long hands and removed his buy’ce, revealing his face to Obi-Wan for the first time. The grey skin and yellow eyes marked him as more than a little Taung, as did the claws, and Obi-Wan wondered how history could have assumed he was just a human.

“You can’t just _adopt_ someone!”

“And yet I have, Ob’ika,” Tarre replied with ease. “None would question it, when I am revealed.”

“When you--you can’t truly mean to just go out in the world, declaring you’re Tarre Vizsla and...what, the rightful Mand’alor?”

Tarre grinned, showing sharp teeth, and Obi-Wan thought he missed the helmet and head tilts. “Yes. There is no Mand’alor, only that aruetii with you. The Jedi, too, are weak. And the Republic near collapse. You have shown me that.”

“I didn’t _show_ it to you, you _took_ it!”

The Force swelled around Tarre, gently pressing down on Obi-Wan, and he felt something in his own shields _give_. There was a bond there, he realized, something the likes of which it had taken him years to consciously form with Qui-Gon. He thought of some of the Jedi histories that Qui-Gon had him read. Cultures were different through time, he knew, and whenever Tarre had lived, with whatever culture he’d built up in this Temple, what he’d done must not have been such a violation.

Obi-Wan hated that it hadn’t even really felt like one. Tarre had felt like he belonged in Obi-Wan’s mind.

“I’m _not_ your child _or_ your Padawan,” Obi-Wan insisted, though it sounded weak even to his ears, with the way the Force seemed to draw them together.

Before Tarre could answer, a warning blared, and he had just enough time to put on his buy’ce before Satine appeared out of one of the side buildings.

“Obi-Wan?” she had her blaster in one hand and his lightsaber in the other, but was smart enough not to be pointing either towards Tarre. “What...what’s going on?”

He gestured helplessly. “Tarre Vizsla? Force osik?”

That got him a severe look out of Tarre and he wondered if the word had been even worse back in his day or if he just didn’t approve of his child using such words in front of...an aruetii. He didn’t want to think of Satine as such, but...Tarre wasn’t wrong. Obi-Wan himself had been questioning the New Mandalorians for half the mission, at least, though he’d stopped trying to get Satine to see reason long ago.

He glanced between the two of them, shoulders slumping. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“The way to _where_?”

Obi-Wan glanced at Tarre, who seemed to weigh telling Satine versus keeping Obi-Wan in the dark. “Where _are_ we going?” he pushed.

“Keldabe.”

Exchanging a worried glance with Satine--Tarre might not know anything about the state of Manda’yaim beyond the Temple--he hurried to collect his things. Keldabe was the last location Qui-Gon had been in, as far as Obi-Wan was aware, so maybe it was a good thing they were going there.

***

Buy’ce on, lightsaber clipped back to his belt, pack on his back, and Satine ready to go--the checklist he’d been running through basically every morning for months now. Except instead of setting off to find a new place to hide, they were following Tarre kriffing Vizsla through an unknown heretical Jedi Temple under Manda’yaim.

He’d say no one would ever believe him, but he was fairly sure when he showed up with someone looking more Taung than anyone had in centuries, with a Darksaber, maybe they would.

“Is there another exit we’re going towards?” Satine finally asked, her voice polite in that cold way the Coruscanti politicians used but with an undertone Obi-Wan had learned meant she was very annoyed.

Tarre didn’t even acknowledge her, he hadn’t actually directly spoken to her yet and Obi-Wan wondered if that was some weird religious thing. So, Obi-Wan repeated the question, and Tarre answered.

“Yes, you came in through a service entrance.”

That made sense, considering how hard it would have been to get back out of. Well, maybe not if the Temple really had been full of trained Force sensitives.

“We’re outside of Sundari, why are we going to Keldabe?”

“It’s the capital.”

“...It _was_ the capital.”

The temperature dropped for a moment as Tarre’s anger grew, then he released it into the Force as Obi-Wan had felt Master Windu do--with the fine restraint of someone who knew when and where anger could be useful.

“It will be the capital, again.”

Satine seemed ready to argue, but Obi-Wan grabbed her hand and shook his head at her. She squeezed his back and kept hold of it. He wasn’t sure if the fine tremors he felt from her were just her fear or exhaustion and he hoped they wouldn’t have to walk much farther, if only because she’d be mortified to show weakness in front of a stranger.

As though beckoned by his thoughts, they reached their destination.

It was another gigantic room, but inside was not residential buildings or a Temple--it was a hangar with pristine looking, ancient model ships. 

“What the _kriff_.”

“Language.”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan responded, automatically, then scowled to realize he had.

“Sorry, buir.”

“...What?”

“When saying ‘sorry’ you should utilize some title or honorific.”

Satine let out a choking noise. “Why would Obi-Wan call you buir?”

Tarre didn’t exactly acknowledge she’d spoken, though perhaps her words were what made him continue. “I am your buir, it is fitting you call me such.”

“Saying a few words doesn’t mean you actually adopted me!” The others looked at him and he realized how ridiculous that must sound to Mandalorians. “I’m not calling you buir,” he finished, sullenly.

His answer was a long-suffering sigh as Tarre moved on towards the ships. 

“These have sat in stasis for nearly as long as I. Any should be worthy of low atmosphere flight.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, but didn’t counter Tarre’s words. All of the ships did look to be in very, very good condition and if nothing had degraded in the systems, he probably wasn’t wrong.

It would also help his case, to show up in Keldabe in a ship that looked straight out of the Mandalorian Wars.

They settled into a mid-sized model that was all curves and sharp points, like whoever designed it wanted it to look _dangerous_. Obi-Wan had a quick whispered conversation with Satine and thankfully convinced her to stay in one of the bunks--she _had_ to sleep and they looked more comfortable than anywhere they’d slept in weeks.

He headed to the cockpit, where Tarre was expertly starting the pre-flight checks. Tarre waved a hand and the door shut--and locked--behind him, keeping Satine out he supposed.

Then Tarre took off his helmet again and Obi-Wan had more thoughts about _Mandalorians_ and _religion_ that he kept to himself because he didn’t want Tarre to think he had any personal interest in him.

“You took everything I knew about Mandalore out of my head, didn’t you?”

Tarre nodded. “I did, Ob’ika.”

“...Do you really think you can save Mandalore?”

The smile he received was softer than the previous ones, the Force bond between them swelling with fondness that leaked through Obi-Wan’s shields. “I must. Mandalore will fall if I do not.”

“But you’re just one person.”

“I am Mand’alor. The Ka’ra guides me.”

“...Is that the same thing as the Force?”

Tarre shook his head. “You’ll understand, I’ll teach you, ner’ad.”

Obi-Wan flinched at the possessive term and slumped into his seat, deciding it might just be better to sit back and ignore Tarre like he was ignoring Satine.

***

They reached Keldabe during the afternoon--Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure that only a single night had passed in the Temple, but he thought he could trust that only a few hours had passed since they’d left it. 

People were already taking note of the ship, aggressive and beautiful in a purely Mandalorian way, and probably not seen outside of the art in historical holodramas. 

When Tarre descended into the city, he pushed out with his Force presence in a way that knocked Satine off her feet and sent a strange energy through Obi-Wan. Tarre pulsed in the Force, pulling and pushing, and Obi-Wan soon caught onto what was happening.

Somehow, he was calling to the traditional Mandalorians--many of the ones who seemed to have the more pleasant reaction were in beskar’gam or other traditional dress, had mythosaurs on their clothing or blasters at their sides. The ones who weren’t...he grimaced as he helped Satine down from the ship, using the Force to support her so he didn’t have to carry her.

 _This_ might be what Tarre had meant by the ‘Ka’ra,’ perhaps some purely Mandalorian form of using the Force and not just a mythological presence.

Outside of Tarre’s presence, Obi-Wan could feel another strong in the Force approaching, and he knew it was Qui-Gon. Their bond was gone--he didn’t feel the normal loose ends of a torn bond, it was like it had just never been there--but they were both still too similarly trained not to notice each other.

When he reached them, his lightsaber was in his hand, thumb hovering over the activation button. “Who is that?” he demanded.

Obi-Wan flinched at the tone and felt an answering outrage through the bond he did have, now. Tarre was before them in a moment, close enough in height to Qui-Gon that he could stare him in the eye without losing ground.

“You are one of the Jedi of today.” 

He still spoke in Mando’a, Obi-Wan was almost certain he knew Basic and just refused to speak it, so Obi-Wan hastily translated when Qui-Gon looked towards him.

“I am. Who are you?” Qui-Gon’s presence was bristling, defensive. 

Tarre, though, was smooth and assured, almost smug. “I am the Mand’alor. And Obi-Wan is now mine.”

Obi-Wan hesitated to translate the last bit, so Satine did, biting out the words as she glared at Tarre. Of course Qui-Gon reacted badly, trying to push his way between Tarre and Obi-Wan. 

Qui-Gon lit his saber when Tarre raised a hand, Force swelling in the tell-tale sign he meant to use it. A moment later, Tarre’s own lightsaber was lit, and silence descended on the square once more as the Darksaber sang its discordant song.

Everyone else stared, even Qui-Gon seemed to falter.

“He’s Tarre Vizsla,” Obi-Wan stated, flushing as he realized how far his words carried into the silence.

“That’s not possible.” 

Obi-Wan threw his hands up in defeat. “I doubt there’s anything you can think about this situation, Master, that I haven’t already.”

“Do not,” Tarre reprimanded, and Obi-Wan glanced at him in confusion. “That one is no ‘master’ to you. He was not a fit Guardian. You are my Padawan, now.”

Qui-Gon might not understand much Mando’a, but he understood the sentiment, and he raised his lightsaber in a classic Ataru starting position. Before Obi-Wan could come up with any _good_ protest, they were fighting.

Many liked to say that a real lightsaber duel would last either seconds or hours. Obi-Wan was used to the spars in the Coruscant Temple, where the entire point was normally not to just outright win.

Tarre was a Mandalorian facing down a Jedi and he _humiliated_ Qui-Gon. In three moves he’d disarmed him (and cut his sword arm off in the process) and knocked him down. One of the best duelists in the Order, Qui-Gon had been thoroughly unprepared, and writhed on the ground clutching the stump where his hand had just been.

If the ancient ship, Force pulses, and the Darksaber hadn’t been enough for the people of Keldabe, the “fight” seemed to be. Everywhere around them people were saluting, there were many shouting out the Resol’nare right then and there, and more still using the comms to spread the news.

At Obi-Wan’s feet, Qui-Gon lay curled up on the ground and Satine had sunk to sit down, seemingly having a hard time just staying conscious. Tarre had been right, whatever it was about being a Mand’alor as _he_ was, there seemed to be a power with it that backed him up.

“Ob’ika, ner’ad,” he called, waving for Obi-Wan to join him where he stood with who might have been some sort of city officials or clan leaders, by their well-maintained beskar’gam and expensive looking weapons.

Obi-Wan felt a tug through the bond, too, and for a moment just let that and the pulse still pounding around him flow. It was nice, like being in the Temple on the best of days. It felt right in the Force. Or the Ka’ra. Or Manda. He didn't know.

“I’m coming, buir,” he muttered, resigned to follow through with whatever was happening until he had more information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarre is presented as human in what little we know about him, but I think that's almost entirely because of a single statue we see of him, wherein he's wearing his beskar'gam and there's no color. Only a little of his face shows through and I think it's entirely possible to claim that's both a semi-accurate statue and that he was definitely not human looking.
> 
> Mando’a:  
> Sat'ika - Satine plus the diminutive 'ika  
> Beskar’gam - the distinctive Mandalorian style armor  
> Mand’alor - sole ruler of the Mandalorians, the traditional emperor-like role  
> Mando'ad/Mando'ade - Mandalorian/Mandalorians  
> Manda'yaim - the planet Mandalore  
> Buy’ce - the helmet of the beskar’gam  
> Resolnare - the central tenants of traditional Mandalorian culture that must be adhered to in order to be Mandalorian  
> dar’Manda - a disgraced former Mandalorian  
> Dral’Han - the Mandalorian Excision, where the Republic performed a pre-emptive strike against Mandalore, left most of Manda’yaim a barren desert, and occupied the Sector for years after  
> Ka’ra - the stars, believed in the ancient Mandalorian religion to be the spirits of their old leaders acting as guides to the living  
> Ob’ika - Obi-Wan and the diminutive ‘ika  
> Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor (in this case, for Satine, basically all three)  
> Osik - shit  
> Buir - parent (like mom/dad)  
> Ner’ad - my child
> 
> "I know your name as my child" is the translation of the vow of the gai bal manda, the Mandalorian adoption ritual.


	4. Plagueis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter desperately wanted more plot and worldbuilding, but I told it a very strong NO and sprayed it with water and eventually it gave up and let itself be shorter.
> 
> For those who haven't read the Plagueis book or related stuff, the guy has a massive hard-on for midichlorians (this is the guy who was trying to create Anakin and arguably did).
> 
> Also, I'm running a somewhat informal Halloween writing challenge, [Spooky Wars Week](https://manyangledone.tumblr.com/post/630570796873662464), that (unlike this one) is open to anyone.
> 
> Posted September 29, 2020

Plagueis observed the Jedi's midichlorians, watching them slowly wither and blink out as his own life diminished in the Force. He'd always been fascinated by the organelles which interpreted the Force in so-called Force sensitives, but had so rarely gotten the chance to observe them in a Jedi Master.

It wasn't until the last ones finally winked out of existence after a long battle against Plagueis' manipulations, Qui-Gon Jinn's life following soon after, that Plagueis' attention was once more on the being who brought about this chance.

He had never spared much thought to human children. Certainly his apprentice was enough of a bother and reason to resist a close association with members of the species. And, yet, in the brief moment he'd allowed himself to focus on the distressed child--the Darkside guiding him, clearly, to do so--he'd seen a formation of midichlorians he was unfamiliar with in his studies.

A smaller amount than one might expect from a Jedi, but the way they lived inside the child was what mattered most. The way he _communicated_ with them, unique in all of Plagueis' experiences.

He'd known, then, that the child was meant for him. Meant for the Dark. Let Sidious weave his faulty webs, relying so heavily on Plagueis' strength and plans, but he would never be the future of the Sith. 

Getting the child alone had been no great feat, not when Hego Damask was known to anyone with knowledge of Coruscanti politics. They had spent much of the first few days of their journey by Republic cruiser in a sitting room set aside for honored guests such as Plagueis, the adult Jedi onboard oblivious to the location of the Padawan.

Such a sharp mind for a human, let alone one so young, and so disillusioned with the Republic already. Slipping through his shields undetected had taken surprising effort, making Plagueis even more appreciative. Once he had a light hold on the child's mind, it was easy enough to get information from him that he would have never otherwise given.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had already left the Jedi once, abandoned by his Master on a wartorn planet. He'd been removed from the Order against his will before that, even.

He wished to be a Jedi Knight, to _help_ people, but he now knew how limited the Jedi were. How much strength the Senate had over them.

Days with Plagueis in his mind did not help the child's opinion on those subjects. He deepened that distrust, that resentment, all the while shoring up the child's defenses so his Master would never have a hint of it.

Not that his Master paid overmuch attention, if not for Plagueis encouraging the child to partake in the food set out for the guests, he might have very well starved in his cabin with the adult Jedi none the wiser.

When they reached their destination, Plagueis knew he had to act, the Dark whispering encouragement to him all the while. He couldn't use the Padawan to draw out the Master, but letting slip the faintest hints of his power made Jinn come barrelling towards his trap with ridiculous ease. Perhaps he thought this was another setup by the pathetic Darksider that he'd once trained or perhaps he thought the child he berated for being too emotional was finally Falling.

It mattered not to Plagueis, who moved in a blur around Jinn once he arrived, disarming him. Fighting a Jedi was not like fighting another opponent, the way they used the Force was far closer to the Sith than they'd ever admit. They could not be easily battered around, could not be choked with the Force or have their hearts crushed so easily.

Despite their strengths in comparison to others, though, they could not approach the ability of a Sith Lord. But Plagueis drew it out, for his own pleasure and studies, and for the growing distress of the child he'd cuffed to the opposite side of the room and drugged just enough to make his use of the Force too slippery to free himself.

There were defining moments at the beginning of any Sith's training. This would be Obi-Wan's. His new, secret apprentice would only be stronger for it--his hatred and fear allowing him to tap into the Dark and his eventual realization of what Plagueis had saved him from drawing him closer.


	5. Tarre Vizsla (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had another idea for this fifth and last one, but multiple people in multiple places wanted more Tarre so I decided...why not? Lol
> 
> This one is a little darker than the last one.
> 
> Posted October 1, 2020 (ooh, so close to doing them all in the month lol)

The nights in the desert outside Sundari were freezing cold. With nothing to block the wind, Obi-Wan and Satine desperately looked for shelter each day, sometimes even backtracking despite the dangers, just to stay out of the elements. They huddled together in caves and crevices, trying to raise Qui-Gon or any of the New Mandalorian loyalists on their comms.

Today they had cut it close, the sun already dipping low on the horizon as they trudged through what looked to be ruins of some once-great building. Between the bombardment and the elements, there wasn't anything identifiable left, nor any buildings that they could use.

Obi-Wan stretched out with the Force as much as he could, senses flowing over what might have once been pillars, what might have once been statues. He almost stumbled when the ground dipped under his senses, too deep to just be a ditch in the sand.

"Sat'ika, I think I found something," he called softly, voice gruff from a day of disuse but Mando'a still flowing easily enough.

She hurried to him--tired, malnourished, but still bristling with righteous energy wherever she went these days. "What is it?"

He took her hand and guided her to what he'd felt, a good few minutes of walking away from his original location. When they got there, he thought perhaps their current lifestyle was playing with his mind, because it just looked like more sand. Cautiously, he pushed it with the Force and...it sunk down, a door hidden beneath opening and the sand flooding through the hole until they could see it.

"A basement," she murmured, her pleasure echoing in the Force. "Can you get us up and down?"

There were no stairs, no sign of any ladders left, but the fall wasn't very far. He nodded in agreement and she wrapped her arms around him as they'd done so many times before.

Obi-Wan descended slower than he would have if it were just himself, not wanting to frighten her no matter how much she now trusted in the Force. They landed softly in the pile of sand. Without needing to speak, they separated as soon as their feet were steady, Obi-Wan pulling out his lightsaber to light their way, but also for protection, as Satine aimed her blaster around them.

"I don't sense anyone else," he murmured.

Though, that wasn't entirely true. There was _something_ about these ruins that made them not feel empty. Maybe some creatures, he pondered, already worrying about all the ways this unexpected boon could go badly the same as all the others before it.

"Can you close the door?" Satine pointed above them. "Sand should cover it again during the night, if anyone comes looking...."

He shot her a smile before doing as she'd suggested, glad she'd thought of it while his mind was elsewhere. As soon as it shut, they were plunged into darkness, his lightsaber the only source of light.

Reaching behind him, he caught Satine's hand, then started deeper into the building. Technically, they could stay in that room all night, but in case there was another entrance they needed to watch, he wanted to know where they were.

The only way out was a narrow hallway, nothing about it screamed danger in the Force. After walking through, they found a large set of doors, faded carvings all along them.

Figures in beskar'gam were easy enough to pick out, along with other clearly Mandalorian depictions. "This must be old," Satine murmured, "old enough we all forgot."

Old enough the New Mandalorians didn't know it was here to destroy, Obi-Wan though, ungenerously, but didn't speak.

A noise rang like a bell from beyond the doors and he startled. From Satine's questioning look, he knew she hadn't heard it.

Again, he could feel some oddness, some presence, but no danger. So he kept going forward, pushing open the doors with the Force and continuing inside.

Beyond was a gigantic space and as they walked they discovered the edges weren't walls, but buildings. Shops or homes, maybe, with doorways and windows. In the center was a field of dirt where crops might have once been raised. Further in, there were steps leading up to a grand building that even in disrepair spoke of reverence.

"Is this some sort of hidden city?" Satine pondered, studying what could be seen in the glow of the lightsaber.

Obi-Wan just shook his head, drawn up those stairs, towards another set of doors. "No. It's a Temple."

She hesitated now to follow him and he sensed unease from her. "To which gods? The Mandalorian ones aren't the most welcoming."

Biting his tongue--because he'd studied plenty of religions and there was nothing overly bad about the Mandalorian gods--he answered, "It's a Jedi Temple. Or...something like it. A Force tradition, definitely. Not Sith."

No, Sith would have...a feeling to it. He'd been around darksiders and Sith holocrons, he and Qui-Gon had even had an eventful mission involving a Sith Temple, but this was different. Maybe not Jedi, but closer.

The presence was _here_ , he realized. It was the Temple...something in the Temple.

It tugged on his mind, nothing screaming "danger" but it was so powerful that he was worried, regardless. But even then, he found himself walking deeper into the building, drawn despite himself.

"Hey! Obi-Wan?!"

He wanted to reply, he did, and yet he couldn't. Step by step, as though he were in a trance, he moved forward, barely registering the doors and hallways.

Around him, the Force pulsed, growing more powerful with each step. It felt almost like the Temple on Coruscant, but without the cloudiness in the Force or the rot from the city around it. Pure energy.

A nexus, he realized, when he finally reached it. An unknown nexus in the Force, on Manda’yaim, that had somehow managed to survive the Dral’Han without turning Dark.

This was a massive find, one Temple scholars would be celebrating for decades, maybe centuries. And, yet, it wasn't documenting the details of it that drew Obi-Wan ever closer.

"Obi-Wan!" Satine grabbed his arm, gasping as the nearness of the Nexus made even her sense it. "I don't think you want to go in there!"

He did, now that he was here, had it weaving through his own signature, cradling him like a beloved child. Another step, then another, Satine refusing to let go and being dragged along.

And then...then it surged up around them and for one brief, brilliant moment, Obi-Wan felt as though the entire universe existed within him.

***

There was noise, frantic and mostly familiar, worried Force presences surrounding him. Obi-Wan groaned, forcing himself to come awake, checking immediately on Satine as had become his habit--beside him, also just coming back to consciousness from whatever had just happened. He wondered if her head ached as much as his did, though part of his issue was the Nexus seemingly digging through his mental shields.

They were lying on beds, people all around them. A not small amount were in beskar'gam, but before Obi-Wan could react he realized it looked nothing like Death Watch's, nor even like some of the traditional clans that they'd encountered.

The armor--in fact, every piece of clothing people were wearing--looked _old_ , like something out of a historical holo drama.

"It is good to see you awake, Padawan," a voice intoned from above his bed, speaking an archaic Mando'a that Obi-Wan could just understand.

He sat up, swaying just a little from the movement, and studied the person who had said that. Fully armored, tall, imposing, with shields in the Force that would impress even Master Yoda.

Now that he noticed, he realized everyone in armor still had their buy'ce on, even the ones performing rudimentary tasks around what seemed to be a Healers' Ward.

Had they stumbled on some hidden fundamentalist Mandalorian Force cult in the Temple? That would be just as big of a find as the Nexus.

Which...Obi-Wan realized he didn't feel anymore. He searched, reaching out, knowing he couldn't possibly _not_ feel something that powerful now that he'd known it so well.

It was gone, somehow, impossibly, but what he did find...that was even more impossible. Because not only was the Temple stuffed full of people, almost all of whom seemed to be Force sensitive in some way, but...the planet around them pulsed with healthy, powerful _Life_.

Had the Nexus brought them somewhere else entirely? To a sister temple on another planet?

"Padawan?"

His attention whipped back to the man. "I apologize. I was just..." he hesitated, then realized these people probably know he wouldn't know anything, "where we are."

The man cocked his head to the side. "You are among the Ka'ra Ga'anle." When Obi-Wan just looked at him blankly, he gave the forward tilt to his shoulders that indicated something like a frown, though Obi-Wan didn't think he was displeased with him. "The Jedi of Manda'yaim?"

"...Jedi...of Manda'yaim?"

"I've never even heard of that," Satine interjected, awake and aware enough to be inching closer to Obi-Wan and have the good sense to use Mando'a.

And worried enough that her hand was hovering in that way that said she might just reach for her blaster, even if the stun setting wouldn't do much against the beskar'gam.

Now the armored man, and not just him, shifted stances, as if they weren't particularly pleased with Satine's existence, let alone her words. Obi-Wan frowned at that, trying to decide what could have given them a bad impression of her already. If they were some secret cult, did they have enough contact with the outside world to know about Satine? They didn't _feel_ like a threat, but with the shielding, it was still a possibility.

"Why would an aruetii have heard such things?"

They both tensed, Obi-Wan shifting as much as he could on the bed to be between Satine and the man. "You expected me to know," he pointed out.

That, at least, drew the attention in the room back to him. "You are a Mando'ad Padawan."

And...Obi-Wan now remembered he was still in beskar'gam, himself, having grown so used to it that in the current situation he'd...just overlooked that fact. "I...but...not whatever way you're practicing," he decided to go with.

If someone in a full suit of beskar'gam who barely moved could project smug certainty with just a shift of his body, that's what the man was doing. Obi-Wan was getting more worried every minute.

"You have the potential to learn."

That sounded ominous, Obi-Wan decided.

"You shall have accommodations for as long as you wish to stay. Your rooms, Padawan, will be in the Learners' wing, which is better shielded so that you might relax better."

"And my...friend's rooms? She'll be where?"

The man seemed to consider the question. "She will have a room in the guest section."

Learner versus guest, another ominous detail. They'd have to be very careful not to let these people separate them more than this.

***

"We're at the mercy of some sort of _cult_ ," Satine hissed, back to using Basic, as soon as they were left alone in her small, bare guest room.

Obi-Wan didn't reply, nervous about surveillance and not sure that the people there didn't know Basic. Instead, he looked over her rooms for any sort of unknown devices or hidden doorways before finally taking his buy'ce. He took a deep breath, noticing without his filters how different even the air seemed in this place.

"We need to find out where we are. This isn't Manda'yaim. It feels...totally different."

He didn't want to frighten her, but she needed to know. When her eyes widened and fear spiked through the Force, he grabbed her arms, steadying her.

"We'll find out where we are, find a way to get out of this...compound...and get to a ship. We've been in worse situations than this--they're not trying to kill us, I can't sense any danger. They're definitely _not_ Death Watch, whatever they are, they'd never accept Force users."

She didn't seem very convinced. He couldn't blame her.

***

It was days before he saw the man who had been hovering over him when he woke up again. He was still clad in full beskar'gam (and Obi-Wan had been careful to keep his own on at all times, too, just in case there was some taboo he would be breaking).

Obi-Wan was wandering down a corridor that he was fairly sure led to the hangers when he felt the familiar presence. He'd explored what he could in the meantime using a pass he’d been given to open the doors, unsurprised when he compared mental maps with Satine to find out that she was much more limited than he was. Everyone had seemed to stay out of his way, though they were ever watchful.

What he had found so far was...odd. As though this cult really had been out of contact with the world for _centuries_ , all of their tech ancient in make but somehow new and working very well when investigated. He had so many questions.

"Padawan," the man greeted, politely and somehow pointedly.

"I never caught your name." His tone was polite, as well, and he bowed with the deference one would to a foreign leader, but he mostly just wanted to know _something_ concrete.

"I am Tarre Vizsla."

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly behind his buy'ce. "Like the old Mand'alor?"

Amusement clouded the Force. "You still haven't accepted where you are?"

They stood in silence, Obi-Wan unsure what to say to that. Finally, Tarre gestured for him to follow and they were soon in a part of the Temple that he hadn't had the chance to explore, yet.

More people milled around here and when Obi-Wan spotted a few holoscreens, he decided it must be some sort of common area. He didn't recognize anything playing on them nor any of the flimsibooks he could see lying around. Again, everyone was in odd looking clothing or very old styled beskar'gam.

His mind...was going to places he didn't know what to do with.

When they reached an otherwise indistinct looking door, the Force began to tense around him. Not with the danger he was still waiting for, but with anticipation.

It opened onto the outside, a complex of buildings with grass and trees interspersed, and beyond a healthy, large forest stretched.

"Do you know what planet this is?" He shook his head. "Feel with the Force, Padawan. See if you can't find something familiar."

Tarre sat down on the grass nearby and Obi-Wan followed. It wasn't as though he could make a run for it, without Satine.

He settled into a light meditation, reaching for the Living Force as Qui-Gon always directed him to. The planet was as he'd felt that first day, brimming with life and energy. Beyond the Temple there were villages and beyond them, hazy in the distance, were what could only be cities.

Beside him, Tarre's presence gently nudged him, requesting to join in his meditation. After a moment of weighing the risks and possible consequences, Obi-Wan slowly lowered his shields.

It was the first time he really had since soon after waking up, no matter what he was told about the shielding in his rooms and he realized his mistake almost immediately.

Where once had been a weak training bond with Qui-Gon was a deep, strong connection with the man next to him. One that should have been _impossible_ to forge so quickly, and especially if it were forged only by one of them.

Before he could pull away, build back up his defenses and try to figure out a way to break the bond, Tarre was there, pushing memories of places and events into his mind.

He'd done this in the reverse, Obi-Wan realized hazily though he didn't know how. Before Obi-Wan had woken up, that's why he'd felt so drained--Tarre had watched his memories to find out more about him and Satine...and the time they came from.

Because there was absolutely nothing modern about what Tarre showed him--not the Temple on Coruscant or the Capital itself, not Manda'yaim and Keldabe, not the people.

The Nexus didn't exist yet and Tarre only had the slightest guess as to how it had formed. But he thought Obi-Wan had been sent to help him, to save Manda'yaim from the fate it suffered in his time.

Something shifted and the Force within them moved with it, suddenly becoming different than Obi-Wan had ever felt it before, foreign and so very powerful here among the Mandalorians. It flowed through him like air, leaving him dizzy when Tarre finally pulled away.

"You are more powerful in the Manda than the Force itself, it is why that Nexus called so strongly to you. It was not the Force as the Republic Jedi perceive it," Tarre explained from beside him, leaning close. "To not train you would be shameful and that useless Master of yours would have seen you ignore these ties."

"I...I need to get home. Satine and I, we--"

"Don't worry, Obi-Wan, this is where you're meant to be. You are home, now, my Padawan."

He must have passed out at that point, because he woke some indeterminate amount of time later, tucked into the bed of his large rooms, completely out of his beskar'gam.

***

 _Did_ the Force want him there, Obi-Wan wondered, a refrain of the question floating through his mind near-constantly at first. Was that why it refused to acknowledge any threat from the people around them? From Tarre?

Could being back here mean they could stop the Dral'han? How many lives would be saved, just by giving a Mand'alor foreknowledge of the event that he could pass onto his successors?

He, reluctantly, started training with Tarre, never feeling entirely relaxed (feeling too connected to him, learning from him feeling too right). Satine disapproved, but she didn't entirely believe Obi-Wan about the time travel and, perhaps worse, she'd been relegated to a position with the Temple servants, as she had no marketable skills for the time period and none of her political connections yet existed.

Secretly, Obi-Wan thought the experience would do her some good. She hadn't been incapable of helping out when it was the two of them on the run, but he remembered how she'd been while they were still in Sundari, before they'd been forced to flee. She'd acted more like a Coruscanti noble expecting to be served than the traditional Mandalorians around them ever would.

***

They were there months before Obi-Wan started to realize they _weren't_ getting back to their time. There was no conveniently placed similar Nexus to use, even if he could recreate what had happened _and_ control when they reappeared. And for as much knowledge as the Ka'ra Ga'anle had, the actual means of time travel, as opposed to the study of it, was not known.

After a year, Obi-Wan more or less accepted his place. As the Mand'alor's Padawan, he was able to travel and learn things that he'd never experienced, could have never hoped to experience. And while the training was harsh, sometimes like the worst parts of Mandalorian and Jedi training mixed into one, he improved in leaps and bounds.

This was how it was supposed to feel, he was coming to realize, this was how being a Jedi was supposed to have always been for him. At the Temple on Manda'yaim there were no arbitrary limitations on what people could learn or practice, no mismatched Master-Padawan pairs that were allowed to keep struggling instead of improving. 

He found himself envying those who had grown up there, who had never known another way of life.

When he mentioned it to Tarre, his Master had been surprisingly gentle in his response, letting Obi-Wan cry out the grief he had for what he missed and, worse yet, what he didn’t miss at all.

Tarre held him, talking to him throughout it all, and when he quietly recited the words that meant adoption in Mando’a, Obi-Wan didn’t even try to interrupt.

There wouldn’t be any return to the future, but he could make a life in the past. Maybe a better one than he would have had.

***

Sometimes, he passed Satine in the hallways. Neither of them tried to speak.

***

Tarre spoke of the Nexus to Obi-Wan only once more. He’d found a way, he thought, of creating one, but it would involve sacrifice. The Dral’han _had_ to happen in order for the Nexus to exist, the Manda creating it through the sudden, horrific deaths of so many Mandalorians and the power released with their souls.

They argued, briefly, over whether it was even necessary. If the Nexus didn’t exist, that didn’t mean some sort of paradox had to happen when it reached Obi-Wan’s mission to Mandalore--time was not so weak a thing, it would adjust and repair. And what did it matter, if the Nexus existed, but Obi-Wan’s travel didn’t save Manda’yaim?

“It is not the Dral’han you were sent to stop, my Padawan. Of that I am sure.”

Obi-Wan was reminded of his early months at the Temple and how ominous everything about Tarre had often seemed. He’d forgotten, somehow, that Tarre was a Taung-blooded Mand’alor, and what he felt and what the Ka’ra showed him could put his motivations far beyond Obi-Wan’s reckoning. 

***

In Obi-Wan's time at the Temple, only one other person seemed to have come through the Nexus-that-would-be. The body was tall, humanoid, but so twisted and burnt by the energy of the Nexus that it was unrecognizable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, this is set prior to the first Tarre fic in this collection--Obi-Wan warns Tarre of what Mandalore will be like in Obi-Wan's time (far from the Manda, ever becoming more and more like the Republic, etc) and Tarre uses that foreknowledge to put in place what's needed for the Dral'han to create the Nexus that would bring _him_ to the future next time haha
> 
> Mando'a:  
> beskargam - Mandalorian style armor  
> buy'ce - Mandalore style helmets with the T-visor  
> Ka'ra Ga'anle - Made up term, meaning Stars' Chosen, Ka'ra is stars but also like the collective souls of past Mand'alors/leaders.  
> Manda'yaim - Mandalore  
> aruetii - traitor/outsider  
> Mando'ad - a Mandalorian
> 
> The Dral'han is also known as the Mandalorian Excision. The Mandalorians had been recovering and reviving and the Republic decided a pre-emptive strike was in order. They all-but destroyed the planet and sent Mandalorian politics spiraling under the control of basically a Republican puppet government lol


End file.
